A Perfect Morning
by Alli Capri
Summary: As Mike's third child is born, he remembers the birth of his second. AU companion piece to Whitebrook's Tragedy, but stands alone just fine.


A Perfect Morning

* * *

"It's been longer than necessary," Mike Reese muttered to himself, digging his clenching fingers into the padded armrests of his chair in the waiting room. The chair, part of the hospital's recent remodeling, was only a year old, yet the cloth on the arms was already wearing thin from the abuse of worried friends and family. He felt a thread snap under his right thumb and relaxed his grip for fear of tearing the fabric right off.

He was anxious with good reason. His wife, Ashleigh Griffen, was in surgery, delivering their second child by planned Cesarean, and he was stuck in the waiting room. Though he would never admit it to anyone but those he knew best, he was squeamish at the sight of blood, and he'd rather suffer waiting than the embarrassment of passing out on the operating room floor.

Samantha Nelson, a longtime friend of Ashleigh's was in there with her. Mike trusted her to take his place by Ashleigh's side for the twenty minutes the operation was supposed to take. He glanced at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. It had definitely been enough time since Ashleigh had been wheeled to the operating room.

"What's taking so long?" he groaned. This time his companion, Beth McLean, heard him and looked up from her magazine. The blond, curly haired woman smiled reassuringly at him.

"I'm sure it's all right, Mike," she said. "Just be patient for a few more minutes."

It was easy for her to say, he thought unhappily. She had one child, a boy, Kevin, who was now almost six years old and playing happily with Mike's six year old daughter, Christina, but that did not mean she understood how he felt. Kevin's birth had been normal and her role in it a more active one. She didn't know the anxious, almost helpless feeling of only being able to wait, nor had she been there, at Saratoga, when Mike and Ashleigh's second child had been born.

The worst day of his life had started out beautifully. With only four of Whitebrook's horses left at the Saratoga meet the days had been much less hectic than a couple of weeks earlier. That Friday only one horse from their barn was running, the two year old filly, Honor Bright, in the Spinaway Stakes, and they had enjoyed a few minutes together early in the morning.

* * *

Mike woke first as he had done often lately, but kept his eyes closed for a moment, relishing the peacefulness of the warm bed, soft blanket, and gentle sunlight seeping in through the lacy curtains. When he finally opened his eyes he thought the morning couldn't get anymore perfect. Ashleigh lay asleep beside him, curled on her side, her dark hair sleep tousled and spread out on the pillow behind her head. Usually she was awake before him, but her advancing pregnancy had tired her, and the previous week hadn't helped any. As fulfilling as training and racing thoroughbreds was, it was also exhausting.

He tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek with gentle fingers. The corners of her mouth lifted in a small smile at his touch and he knew she was starting to wake.

"Good morning," he said softly, and the hazel eyes he so often lost himself in opened.

"Morning." She rubbed her eyes in an adorably childlike manner. "What time is it?"

"Five." He kissed her once and started to push the blankets back. "We should get to the track."

"No." Ashleigh touched his arm. "Stay here with me for a while." She spoke as if nothing in the world would make her happier than having him beside her. Unable to resist, he lay back down and slipped his arms around her to cuddle her against him. She closed her eyes and buried her face happily in his chest. Her stomach, slightly swollen by five months of pregnancy, pressed against his, and he felt the occasional kick or flutter of movement of the baby inside her.

Mike cradled her for long minutes, reveling in the feel and scent that was distinctly Ashleigh, but at last they could no longer linger. He squeezed her tightly once and pulled back. Her face clouded.

"I don't want this moment to end."

"I know, but Honor isn't going to get herself ready to race." She smiled, and he kissed her again. "I love you." He shifted and kissed her stomach. "And I love you."

The rest of the morning turned out as nice as its beginning. It was warm, but not as hot as it might have been in late August in upstate New York, and the the blue sky held not one cloud to hinder the shining sun, only a smudge of gray far to the west. Cindy and Ian McLean joined them in Whitebrook's stabling on the backside, Cindy looking apprehensive, yet confident, about her second race since breaking her shoulder only a few months before. Her adoptive father was more worried, but trying to hide it for her sake.

Mike put one hand on the assistant trainer's shoulder in a gesture of fatherly understanding. Every new milestone of Christina's both thrilled and terrified him. His daughter's first steps, from his hands to his father's one Christmas Eve, had been her first step away from him. All to soon she would take another when she rode alone for the first time on the pony he and Ashleigh had been talking about getting her for Christmas this year. Ian was happy for Cindy, who was so excited to race again, but he was afraid for her all the same.

Post time approached, and the three of them got Honor saddled and led her to the walking ring. Mike put himself between Ashleigh and the excited bay filly as they walked at her head, but relaxed when Ian took Honor into the ring. Ashleigh leaned against him while they watched Ian lead Honor around. She looked tired and pale, the morning on her feet wearying her.

Mike was about to say something, but one of the eleven fillies in the ring grew fractious, resisting her handler and pawing at the ground. He watched nervously as the filly tossed her head and skittered around, kicking at the air behind her. At last the handler took her out of the ring, he and the trainer leading the filly away from the other horses.

Then Cindy joined them, neatly dressed in Whitebrook's blue and white silks, her blond hair bound tightly into two short braids peeking out from under her helmet, and all except the upcoming race was driven from Mike's thoughts.

Ashleigh gave Cindy a hug and saw her into the saddle before turning to Mike.

"I'm going to go to our seats," she said.

"Do you want me to go with you?" he asked, concerned despite his preoccupation.

"No. I just have to sit down. Stay with Cindy and Honor." He nodded and watched her walk away for before joining Ian in giving Cindy her instructions for the race. All traces of nervousness had been banished from Cindy's face and the trainer in Ian had pushed aside the father so that he could tell her to watch out for the bay filly in the three spot at the start of the race and the chestnut filly near the finish. Then it was time for the post parade and Ian led Cindy and Honor out of the walking ring and toward the track, fifth in a line of ten. The fractious filly had not returned.

A sudden uneasiness washed over Mike as he watched them depart. Moments later a chill wind swept in from the west, shaking the trees, ruffling his blond hair, and bringing unexpected rain. He looked up at the golden drops that fell from the sky, seeming to come from the sun itself. It was beautiful, yet fear seized his heart and sent him running in the direction of the clubhouse.

Cold rain pelted his face, but it was the shrill whinny and frightened scream that made him shiver.

"Ashleigh!" he cried, racing with all speed toward his worst nightmare.

He held her hand, the only part of her broken body he dared to touch, from the moment he reached her side until she disappeared behind the doors he was not allowed through. It was a relief when Ian and Cindy arrived, though there was little they could do but join him in waiting. Cindy slumped in a chair, staring at the floor. Ian walked slow laps around the room, one by one picking up and reading all the informational pamphlets he could find.

An age later a doctor appeared, looking somber. Mike's heart raced and his knees surprised him by not buckling when he stood to meet her.

"Mr. Reese, your wife will be all right. She's in recovery now and should wake up in a few hours."

"The baby?" he asked.

"I'm sorry. He lost so much blood he died before we could get him out. There was nothing we could do for him."

Pain such as he had never known gripped him like a vice. Vaguely he heard the doctor say someone would come get them when Ashleigh woke, and when she left he found his chair again, falling into it.

Ashleigh was going to be all right and that was all that mattered, he tried to tell himself, but it was no good. Their child was dead. The little life that had kicked him in the stomach just that morning had been cut short without even a chance. Grief threatened to overwhelm him and he struggled against it. Ian sat down in the chair beside him.

"My baby, Ian," he said, feeling like every word was being torn from his heart. "My son. He's gone." Tears pricked his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He had to be strong for Ashleigh. Ian put a hand on his shoulder.

"I know." It was more than he could stand. One tear slipped down his cheek; then another. A quiet sob escaped next, and when Ian's arm went around him he did not resist, but leaned into the embrace and let his misery and his tears pour into Ian's chest.

* * *

Like rain falling from a clear blue sky tragedy had struck his little family. Now, almost three years later, they were trying to move on. Mike looked down at Christina, who was coloring a tree as realistically as possible while Kevin filled in a rabbit on the same page with a vivid orange. Losing their son had nearly broken Ashleigh, but their daughter had saved her, forcing her to keep going even when the pain was at its worst.

Christina, only three at the time, remembered little of what happened. She knew only that her mother had been hurt and very sad, and that she went with her parents to see baby Tristan's grave. Someday, when she was older, they would show her the picture a nurse had taken of her parents holding their tiny son as they said hello and goodbye at the same time.

Mike was about to check his watch again when swift footsteps sounded in the hallway and Samantha appeared, her red hair tied up under a surgical cap and her green eyes shining with happy tears. He looked from her smile to the small bundle she carried and jumped out of his chair, reaching her in seconds. From the top of a swaddling of blankets a tiny head peeped out, still wet and covered in dark fuzz.

"It's a boy!" she whispered excitedly. Hesitantly Mike reached out and Samantha placed the baby in his arms. The newborn felt warm and solid, not insubstantial like the one they lost, and as Mike held him his blue eyes opened. He felt like crying for joy. With tears blurring his vision he counted the ten fingers on the miniature hands and the ten toes poking out from the blankets.

An urgent tugging on his sleeve turned his attention to Christina, who had abandoned her coloring, and he knelt to let his daughter meet her brother. Christina touched the baby's arm gently, her fingers traveling down its length until she reached his hand. Then his fingers closed around one of hers and she giggled softly.

"I like him, Daddy." Mike smiled.

"I like him too, Chrissy." He allowed her to kiss the baby's head once before standing to show him to Beth. Christina turned and climbed into Samantha's arms.

"Where's Mommy?"

Mike looked up. He, too, wanted to know.

"The doctors are going to take her to her room and help her get ready to take care of the baby. We can go see her soon."

A few minutes later Samantha, Mike, Christina, and the baby were heading down the hall to see Ashleigh. She looked comfortable enough, though Mike knew she would be sore later, and when she saw them her face lit up with a radiant smile. Christina ran to her first.

"Mommy, the baby's here!"

"I know, honey, isn't it exciting?" Ashleigh replied, hugging her daughter tightly even as she looked for her son. Mike brought him to her and sat beside her on the bed. She left one arm around Christina and, with Mike's help, cradled the baby with the other.

"He's perfect," Ashleigh said. She looked from the baby to Christina, to Mike, and finally Samantha. "This is perfect. I'm so happy."

"What are you going to name him?" Samantha asked.

"We've been thinking about that a lot," Mike answered. "We want to give him a name that means something to us." He paused and looked to Ashleigh, who continued.

"We want to name him Charlie."

Samantha's smile was both happy and sad. "He'd be so proud, Ash."

"And we'd like you and Tor to be his godparents."

"We'd be honored. Thank you so much! I have to go call Tor." She hugged each of them and gave baby Charlie a kiss. Mike gave her an extra squeeze.

"Thank you, Sammy," he said. "Thanks for everything."

"It was my pleasure."

When she had gone Mike rejoined Ashleigh on the bed. She leaned into him with the baby between them and Christina cuddled against her other side, and he brushed a stray tear from her cheek and kissed her gently. With a contented sigh she put her head on his shoulder. Mike felt like he had gotten back that perfect morning almost three years ago, only this time the day would have a happy ending.


End file.
